purple_shadows

Shadows finds herself momentarilly out of sorts and stumbles outside to catch her breath. "M'lady, you still have 13 more kisses, you better go claim them, says the rat on her shoulder. "yes," she muses. "But you see, I can't just go back in there and ask for the rest of my kisses. No, I have something a little better in mind." She quickly counts the geld in her pocket and smiles to herself. "Come my companion, it looks like we have so business to attend to." She saunters up to Xaiouses booth and drops 10 geld on the table. "Good sir, what is it that you predict for me?" She asks. Leaning a little closer she whispers so that only he can hear, "I believe I already know. Do not dissappoint me." OCC: This counts for Xaiouses predictions booth, but for obvious reasons, I think it's best posted here.

shadows walks (stumbles) into the booth area, rather perplexed by all the milling and tightly packed bodies. "My dear companion," she says, "can you please tell me what it is that this crowd has gathered for?" "Well, m'lady," says the rat on ehr shoulder, "there seems to be a kissing booth with two very lovely ladies, a portrait and a man." "How much?" "5 for the ladies and the portrait, and one for the man who doesn't seem to be getting much business." "well, we shall have to remedy that!" She exclaims pulling out 30 geld. she lays 15 geld on one table and kisses each of the ladies and the portrait . "who did i kiss?" she whispers. "Zool, Ayshela, and Salinye." "who's left?" "Xaious" "well, well, well," she grins, "then this will be well worth my money." She walks over to Xaious's booth and drops 15 geld on his table. "I expect no less than 15 kisses, love. Lucky for you I shall make it well worth your while." She grabs him and kisses him passionately, pausing for a breath of air and then going right back in again. Ah yes, she knew a good writter when she kissed him. And she noted, she hadn't lost her touch. not one bit. The stunned and now rather exausted Xaious lies back dazed in his chair. "Come my companion, lets go see the rest of the fair." EDITED FOR SPELLING

Have you ever noticed that the sun is brighter in the winter than any other time of the year, though it comes out for a shorter period of time? That's the way it is with my muse. She isn't there for long, but when she comes, she shows herself bright and clear so that all thoughts before her, and all thoughts after are dark in comparison, as the night is to the winter sun.

i think theya rea capitalized for a reason Falcon. Probably because he is refering to them as people. You capitalize people's namesl Jokes like that are always fun when you catch them. Anyways. I liked it. I like a lot of your stories. This one was short and humerous, although I did find that it ended rather abrubtly. or was that the point? either way, i very much enjoyed it. It made for a good read.

Therapy I’ve grown tired of listening To you try to justify yourself Your excuses mean nothing to me Fabricated on fiction And contradictory to your actions You make me want to scream And cry out obscenities At nothing in particular What are you so afraid of? That I might finally escape? But wait a minute I thought you wanted me gone Out of your hair So you won’t have to worry about ‘The problem child’ Or do you want to keep me close So you can keep your eye on me Keep me from getting into your branches And under your skin You can’t keep me here forever you know A fence won’t keep me out A fence won’t hold me in You can either learn to trust me Or you can let me go

Well, I too must leave the pen for a little bit. however, in my case it's only for about 3 weeks, as I am grounded for doing something that was totally worth doing. So I'm not too worried about it. I'll see you guys in 3 weeks.

you might want to try punctuating it a bit for flow. my suggestion would be: Who am I, What can I do? Are you out there, Drowning too? Dreaming dreams, Crying acid. All is quiet, Strangely placid. Can you hear me Screaming out loud? Dreams of hatred, I am not proud. At least that is the way the flow works for me, but I could be wrong. Otherwise, i greatly enjoyed it, the feelings conveyed are one's I've often felt myself.

wow. I can't figure out what to feel about this. it was deeply personal and toughing. It made me laugh, it made me cry. It resonated very deeply. You have such a gift with words. Use it well.

Look at me Dark hair And light skin And bright eyes Grinning like an idiot Acting the fool Why am I here? I stand before you Short But straight And proud And broken I will not move I will be strong I will wait And hear your answer I chose to let you in And there’s no going back again

One, I was being sarcastic. Two, knowledge, literature, and respect mean a very great deal to me, and it is more a respect isuue than anything else. I don't care if i don't have to read it. That isn't the point, the point is that people are taking out the complexities of something that is beautiful because its intricacy in order to make it easier and less time consuming, because we as americans don't want to bother with anything that doesn't have something to do with technology. Is this not disrespectful to the writter? Is this not disrespectful to those who still value some sort of intelligence? Because I think it is. Three, does this not reek of 1984? Our scentences are being shortend to a few charecters, expressions into emoticons. You can't even be begin to express the complexities of emotion in a damn smiley, it just doesn't work.But perhaps that is the point. Instead of Big Brother, i imagine signs saying "Bill Gates is watching you." All in all, i was being sarcastic, not uncommon. However, I also see this as a serious serious violation of respect. So yes, it is funny, but at the same time, it makes me mad. Not to mention the fact that i'd rather not see bill gates' face plastered on the side of buildings. (incase you couldn't tell, i meant that as a joke)

*trips* what the do they :censored: think that they :censored: I am in no way proud to say that I am a part of this generation. This makes me sick. How could they ruin the illiad? Classic literature! emoticons in place of accual emotional imagery? Oh my freaking god. the structure, rhyme scheme, all the work that goes into writting an epic. Do we even have literature like that anymore? Everything that is so beautiful about that peom, because it is more than just a story, it is a work of art....i can't believe they could do something like that to something so classic. What happened to teaching our children how to read and appreciate real literature ? Instead of accepting our decline and conforming to it, we should be doing something about it! Things like this really scare me. if i am still alive when this sort of thing becomes the accepted norm, please, shoot me if I haven't shot myself already. *curls into fetal position in a corner and begins to rock* I am so glad to have this place.

I want to comment, but at the same time, all I have to say is WTF? But not in a bad way, in more of an utterally lost and confused sort of way, like i'm totally missing something here that i should be getting but don't. My quest for knowlege however has led me to ask: What is Perl? If it's something that rquires a good deal of explainin, you can feel free to PM me, because I really hate feeling confused.

*muses* I liked this, and I really enjoyed the turn it took, from wanting what you can't have, to enjoying better the things that you do. I for one know that I would hate stiff, starchy colthing. Good job and I hope to see more from you.

I think that this line sounds forced coming after the line above it. especially the "And it will be said," which I believe should be deleted as it distracts from the flow. also Sounds akward, but I can't really think of anything that would sound better in it's place. The most I can really say about it is be aware of it.. Other than that, I really enjoyed this piece. iit's a feeling I've often had, seeing something that other's don't, and whishing that something would happen that doesn't. It can get rather lonely.

I got the idea for this one from some missheard lyrics on a new CD, and took it from there. Enjoy. P.S. I Want feedback. It's a good thing really, even if you hate it. Is anybody there? Your fears keep on multiplying Does anybody hear me calling? A one-sided conversation Does anybody care? Nobody knows your dying What’s it all for? You’ve lost all hope of trying Is anybody there? You can’t stop the tears from falling Does anybody hear me calling? Not when you scream in silence Does anybody care? You’ve locked yourself inside What’s it all for? What have you decided? Is anybody there?

Who would have thought that things would turn out like this? The constant bombardment of images. The yes no, yes no. What is right and what’s wrong? Do I even know anymore? I thought I did. Is he just like the rest? Like they portray them in movies? On TV? Or is he like they are in the novels instead? The kind of boy that could only exist in my head. I don't know where to go with this. The pressure is on when the decision is now. There’s so much that I don’t understand. So much going on inside my head. Am I ready? I wasn’t before. It ruined my life. Will it be the same again? Am I just scared? What do I say? How do I know? I’ve never had the courage in me to say what I needed too. Will I now? Will it even be the right decision, as decisions go? My mind says yes. My heart says no. And I can’t help but watch TV. The story of my life, What will it be? Joan of Arcadia? Or the OC?

Ahhh..ok then. Jeeze, i've read over this thig over and over again and never noticed this stuff. probablt because since it is my own story, as i read it, i tell it, and thus add words in in my mind that should be there but aren't. blargh. i hate it when that happens. *hugs*

ok, first, I'll start by explaining the doors. "when one door shuts, another one opens" I probably could have phrased the rest of that better, but basically what i am trying to say is that I shut all the doors that I needed, and that meant he got through the bad ones that opened in their place. as for all the little run ons and stuff, well, yeah kind of expected that. Same with the whole forgetting of the 'I" bit. too late to change it for the assignment obviously, but I will deffinately pay attention to it in later works. Not quite sure what you are trying to say with the blood one. end the scentence after it and capitalize instead? *Noted* Content and blissful peace too me are two similar ideas, but not the same thing. i played with that one for awhile, but it didn't feel right choosing one or the other, again, i will keep this in mind. and the with a sheet is as in "with a bed sheet" but I just call them sheets. *hugs* and thank you

Of course not. And I forgot to thank you for comment katzaniel. and while I appreciate your criticism on the first paragraph, you will find that this discription is quite neccisary as it tells how i feel about myself today and that as far as I have come, I still don't feel that I have found myself, which was also part of the assignment. But thank you and I'm glad that you took the time to read through it and comment, because I know it is rather long, at least for me.

couldn't have said it better myself Ayshela

You asked me how do I deal And I told you I do what I must to stay sane But what is sanity I know that insanity Is when you do something Over and over again Expecting different results Dr. Phil would ask me How’s that working for ya In that Texas drawl And I’d tell him Not very well But I’d still sit here Bored out of my mind Unable to move Or find any sort of motivation Because my world is on The other side of this screen And I’m wondering If maybe we made a mistake When the only thing That keeps me going I can’t have everyday You feel it too It distances us more than The distance that is Already there It’s funny how a simple question Changes your entire Outlook on a situation When before that Question was asked Everything was simple And good and there Wasn’t this constant ache I wonder if we made a mistake.

*hugs* for everyone! your promotions are all well deserved. The next round is on me! ...does anyone have fake id?

I turned this in as an english assignment today. The assignment was to write a narrative about a force in your life that has made you what you are today. Anyways, enjoy the read and i really want to get good constructive criticism. Every morning I wake up and wash my face over the bathroom sink. While drying my face I look up and stare into the eyes of a stranger. They are expressive eyes, brown, and green, and gold, always changing. Pale skin and rosy cheeks, chapped pink lips, and dark curly hair with hints of red and gold. I see long pale hands, and wrists no bigger than an average four year olds. A tiny torso is contrasted by hips that have rounded themselves out over the last year. All the way down to the tiny ankles and feet that are too long and thin for her body. On the top of her left forearm crisscross thin, pearly white scars. But these scars are not hers, they are my own. To touch upon the surface is not for what it seems however, and they barely begin to hint at the scars that lie hidden underneath. When I look at them I can’t help but think “Gestalt,” art speak meaning the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Each scar has its own separate meaning, and alone would be wholly unremarkable, but together they tell a story. However, the fact that they are only on the top of the forearm shows unimaginable restraint to most, but they don’t understand that even in the worst of times I never wanted to die. It is on this unmarred skin where the story truly is told of the strength of heart and will to survive that carried me through my darkest days, and made me who I am today. Perhaps you are wondering where this all began, and I shall tell you. It is rather cliché actually; it all begins with a boy, a little over a year and a half ago. I was a sophomore in high school and he was my first real boyfriend. Up until that point every relationship has been one failed attempt after another, twelve total, never lasting over two weeks. Perhaps that is why I was so desperate to make this work. I needed to prove to myself, as well as everyone else that I could do it. He needed to prove how much he could get away with. That is where the problems start. People always tell me I am too trusting, but they never had to tell me, I already knew. There is a point when you are too loyal, and even though you are kicking and screaming while he is holding you down, you still believe that he would never hurt you, and you would do anything if it would make him happy. Writers often refer to this as mental blindness; a blindness I believe is caused by pride. I couldn’t admit to myself that I was wrong, because that would mean I had failed, and I thought that everyone else would see it as such, so I pretended that it wasn’t happening. When one door closes another one opens, and I had slammed all of mine shut, allowing others to swing wide open so that he could get in and torment and twist to his hearts content, manipulating me however he saw fit. At first, I had no idea that while he was confessing his love to me, and telling me of his hearts deepest desires, he was doing the same with at least five other girls. The only difference was that they knew and didn’t care, whereas I was left completely in the dark. Eventually his secret got around to me, and I made the mistake of running to him in tears. He sulked for days and accused me of not loving or trusting him enough. He told me that he had heard rumors that it was me who was being unfaithful. He called me every name in the book. I told him he was wrong, and he told me that we needed to break up. Everyday for four days I called him, begged his forgiveness, told him that I had been wrong to accuse him, and would he please come back. Eventually he said ok, and I let him do what he pleased with me without protest, besides, he’d have hit me if I didn’t. It wasn’t until later that I found out on this break he had been dating a girl who I thought had been my friend. People tell me that I am too compassionate. They tell me that I can’t fix the worlds problems, but I thought that maybe I could fix his. His parents had died when he was twelve and he had to move in with his aunt and uncle, people who barely had enough money at the end of the day to put food on the table. I made him lunch almost everyday, and when I could afford it, we would have pizza from The Pub across the street. If it weren’t for this, I might have had money to spend on myself every now and then, but I never did. It seemed that most of my paycheck went to support feeding him or taking him places. I think that it made me feel like I was in control, but like most things in our relationship, it had only been an illusion, and a thinly veiled one at that. One that everyone saw through, even I saw through it, but I could never admit to myself that I was wrong. My grades were slipping. I spent night after night on the phone with him for hours at a time, more often than not, I was crying. He’d tell me that he was going to kill himself, that he just couldn’t take it anymore, he was a failure. As his girlfriend, it was my job to tell him how amazing he was and how much potential he had, even when he ended up in jail for a night and expelled from school for a month. Conversations like these often left me emotionally drained, and I would go to bed without so much as touching my homework. I started having dreams, dreams of rape and violence so vivid that I would wake up in the morning, bruised and sore, or in the middle of the night shaking and drenched in a cold sweat. I stopped sleeping, instead I occupied my time by reading or writing, or simply sitting, drifting in and out of consciousness until it was finally time to dress and get ready for school. My parents hated him of course, and I could see no wrong, add that to the fact that I was on the verge of failing almost every subject that I was currently in. With the pressure coming from both sides, I had to find an outlet, and so I grabbed a safety pin and began to cut. Wasn’t the blood that did it for me, instead it was the rhythmic scratch, scratch, scratch, that calmed me down. I needed something simple, something I could control, and cutting gave me this. I would feel about ready to explode and all I had to do was find a safety pin and begin to scratch. It brought upon me an instant content and blissful peace, but it also made me feel hollow, and ashamed. I could not bear what I had done, and knew what everyone would think, and so even on the hottest spring days I wore long sleeves or a light sweatshirt. By the end of spring I had stopped, but not because things had gotten better. On the contrary, it was because it was getting too hot. I needed to be able to wear tank tops, but I didn’t want people to see scabs on my arms. Soon summer came and he and I went on a fourth break. By this time, I was in too deep to let go, and so I would do what he asked when he asked regardless of if we were going out or not. I wanted to be with him, and I wanted his approval, to me that was all that mattered. By the end of summer we were dating secretly. Little did I know that he was also dating my best friend. But then she let it slip, and I went into hysterics. He told me that she was just spreading rumors, and again accused me of cheating on him, like every time before. Of course she had had no idea that he and I were together, so it wasn’t entirely her fault. I however, placed the blame on her, and not on him like I should have. School started and this was still going on. I dated him openly to rub it in her face, and she dated him secretly to shove it in mine. We had been best friends but a boy was tearing us apart. I had finally begun to understand what he was doing and refused to let it happen. But by that point it was too late, we had played perfectly into his hands. It took me a week of breaking up and getting back together with him, hours and hours of crying and screaming on the phone (52 hours exactly). He used every trick in the book, including the threat of suicide, but I knew that I had to hold my ground, and I finally managed to break up with him for good, two weeks shy of a year from the day he asked me out. I’d allowed myself to be manipulated for so long, that I no longer knew how to function without him. I had lost my friends, I had lost my parents trust, I had lost my own identity. The only way I knew how to live was through him. You’d think that breaking away would be liberating. On the contrary, I was left as nothing but a shell. I couldn’t even feel triumph. At that point, all I felt was sapped. I felt hollow. I couldn’t even form coherent speech, I’d flinch if someone said my name, I’d sit rocking in a corner, muttering to myself for hours on end, I wouldn’t sleep, and when I did, I’d dream dreams more terrible than those previous. I had snapped, and recovery would be long and hard, but I refused to waste my life. The first thing I had to do was get out of the drama, and the best excuse I had was to join running start. I joined a quarter late, and while at first I was only there because I needed an escape, I soon found a future. Not only that, but I did better in college than I ever had in high school. The second thing I did was join Art Honor Society. I immersed myself in art, expanding on my previous knowledge by learning new techniques and mediums, applying them to work that I’d been doing on my own. I stopped living life in the past and began looking towards the future. I packed up anything in my room that reminded me of my past relationship, and gave it all back. This gave me room for other things, like shelving for art supplies, books, even clothes. I changed everything about myself. Started filling my closet with bright colors, as opposed to my previous black. I dyed my hair in all colors of the rainbow, and then cut off over a foot of it. I started wearing makeup again (he had hated it), and I enrolled myself in Tai Chi. I now have a more playful outlook on life, and live everyday as if it were my last. I voice my opinions, which was something I could never do before. I do things that are good for me, good for the soul, like dancing in the rain, and running with sheet trailing behind me in the wind. I use my past constructively in my art, my writing, and my acting. I can sleep at night. While my experience left me bent and bitter, and deeply wounded, it never broke me. The wounds are still healing, and no matter what, I will always bear the scars. They are a reminder of my darker days, and how far I have come from the year I refer to as the time when I was sleeping with the devil. But they are much more than that, because when I look in the mirror, stranger though I seem, I still see that opposite these scars is pale unmarred flesh, and that is where my strength truly lies. To say that I didn’t receive some guidance along the way would be a lie, but that would involve writing a completely different story, so instead I will say this: There were many times I could have easily slit my wrists but I didn’t. Instead, I chose to live.

I very much enjoyed this poem, and while I figured it was about drugs, i didn't realize that it was about overdosing. I loved the visuals it gave of swallowing fairies. While reading this I imagined several little fairies tumbling out of a bottle and struggling as they were put into the subjects mouth and then swallowed. It was kinda fun in a sick and twisted way.... Anyway, thanks for writting it, it was a good read.

I love poems about cycles, especially involving seasons. Most of the time, they are just refferenced, i think there is more depth when they are decribed.